#the teeth will keep biting and the hands will keep holding

[hanasnx]

ᯓ★ “ NEED A FRIEND YOU CAN FUCK, I CAN BE THAT ” — clark kent.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ ✉️ | dc comics. NOTES: i haven’t seen this movie yet so unfortunately i don’t know much about his characterization other than the trailer content. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ established relationship ノ explicit sexual content ノ size difference ノ david!clark has huge dick syndrome ノ mentions of reader having hair ノ trying out the mating press position ノ talking you through it ノ allusions to pussy eating ノ p in v ノ unprotected sex ノ emphasis on eye contact.

“Clark… I don’t know about this…” you hedge, twisting the tip of your nail between the narrow space in your biting teeth. As your confidence wanes, a large and soothing hand smooths down from your shoulder to your arm. The calluses scratch you in a most pleasant way, and it relaxes some of the tense in your shoulders. You peer up at him uneasily, searching for reassurance as he adjusts to stand on his knees, rearranging your body when he tugs you down by your hips until you’re settled deep into the pillows of the bed. You sit pretty for him, the little nighty you had on having ridden up to show him what’s underneath. At the sight of it again, his tongue rolls between his lips.

“Just… keep your eyes on me.” he calms you, his fist coming to rest next to you on the mattress, and it dips with his weight as he fixes to hover over you. He’s so close to you now, blanketing you under his large body and the urge to capture his lips in a kiss from muscle memory is conveyed by the jut of your neck, reaching for him. Coolly, he lifts his chin to dodge it, making sure he knows you’re focusing. “Remember what we talked about?” It’s an instruction to relay it, and your feet curl to fiddle with your toes in your socks, your fingers mirroring them in a nervous habit. You glance down, biting onto your lower lip, only to meet his gaze and be pacified by the kindness in his eyes. You tilt your head to your shoulder, staring at him lovingly.

“Mhm.” you respond and nod obediently, your hair tickling your skin. “‘Stay still.’” you parrot, and when his face breaks out in a grin, you mimic it.

“No, no, that was before.” he chuckles, inclining over to peck you on your hair for such a cute mistake. Instead, his eyes darken from the recollection as he holds your gaze, and you feel warm in your chest. You had been squirming too much when his mouth was on you earlier, layering open kisses on your wet heat to help you loosen up. Even when he locked his arms around your thighs, you couldn’t help but try to fight him, he didn’t even budge. Instructing you was necessary to remind you to be good for him, otherwise you’d still be trying to run from your own orgasm. He reiterates the other conversation, “Gotta try to stay relaxed. Deep breaths. Can you do that for me?” You make a show of thinking for a second, but end it with another nod all the same. At your permission, he begins to enact the position you’d be talking about before—the one you’ve never gotten to do with him. “It’ll be like last time, okay?” he talks you through it as he kneels to maneuver you again, and the loss of his body heat makes you shiver. “We’re gonna let you get used to it first.” One leg is raised to hook your ankle on his shoulder. “Let’s start with one.”

In a burst of confidence, you cry, “Both!” and Clark looks at you crooked, wearing questioning brows and a little smirk that affirms your decision. “Do both.” you repeat, lifting your other leg with a point of your toes to reach his shoulder. His palm catches it, and takes it the rest of the way, settling both of your feet on either side of his neck. His hips push out, and your eyes flicker to his hard abdomen feeding into his v-line, that trail of pubic hair leading to the bulge in his pants.

Carefully, he stretches you out, folding you in half as he crawls back on top of you until your knees have hooked properly onto his shoulders. You squeak at the sensation of the bands in your thighs now taut, “Feeling okay, duchess? Need to start with something different?” he asks, you can hear the concern in his whisper, and feel his breath fan your cheek.

“No, I’m okay, I’m okay.” you insist, your eyes falling closed until he peppers kisses onto your jawline. Your lashes flutter open when you remember what he said. Keep your eyes on me… “I want you, Clark. I really do.”

“I’m not even in yet and I can already hear your little heartbeat. Are you sure?” he speaks through latching his mouth onto your neck, tasting your pulse on his tongue. He ends the suck with a wet pop, and you wiggle your hips with need at his frustrating stalling. “We can go back to what we were doing before. I don’t mind.” He certainly eats your pussy like he doesn’t mind, but right now you need something a little harder.

“Mhm. Please. Please?” Your brows skew into something pathetic, the way he’s talking to you has you twitching around nothing, and you feel his grin against your neck.

He rears to meet your eyes, a gentle hand coming to brush a lock of hair behind your ear. “Yeah,” he says quietly, “yeah, let’s try it. Just keep talking to me, okay? Don’t try to be brave.” Something about eye contact and the sound of undoing his pants makes you flood, watching him with your hazy bedroom gaze as he grips the base to feed into you. His tip brushes your clit and you suck in through your teeth with a hiss. Clumsily, it searches for the give, and your hips chase it even though your tailbone is suspended in air right now. As he sinks the head in, you both inhale, and you witness the twitch in his eye as his pupils darken, buttering your insides with pre as he gently ruts into you with just an inch.

You reach for him, fingers tangle in his hair, and you clutch onto him as you ride out the sting of being stretched. “More,” you tell him breathlessly, “more, Clark…” The way you’re looking at him, the way his name pours from your parted lips like sex, his jaw slacks as he starts shoving in for his sake more than yours. You just feel so good. Warm and soft, he can’t help but beg for your heat to be wrapped around more of him. You moan in anguish, your back arching off the bed as just half of him hurts. He scolds himself for acting like a dog, pulling out enough for you to notice. “No!” you whine, desperation clear on your tongue, your grip releases him to grab onto the loose waistband of his pants hanging off his hips. You use the fabric as handlebars, yanking him toward you. You’ve got no hope of overpowering him, but it’s enough to show him what you want. “Please, Clarkie, please—“

Your feet bob in suspense as he forces more of himself in, sinking an inch away from the hilt as the last of your resolve melts, as if he’s battering you open with each stroke. Keeping your eyes on him is too much when your eyes can’t focus, lazing into the back of your head as he hits that spongy spot inside you perfectly at this angle. “It’s… so deep. It’s so deep, you’re so deep…” you babble, your chest jumping as he sheathes all the way in over and over again. Sweetly, he lands on his elbows, freeing his hands to cradle your head. Noises fill the room, skin smacks skin, grunts escaping his nose, your pretty lofty moans. It’s a symphony. A love letter from body to body. You ache and drool around his cock lodged so deep up your guts you can feel him in your throat.

“You look so beautiful like this…” Clark manages to say through his efforts, and he feels tremors build in your legs. “What’d you call this position again?”

“M-“ you stutter, “mating press.”

“That’s right. A mating press.”

@HANASNX 2025 | do not copy, plagiarize, or steal.

[yurizq]

can we pls have more yuji anything plssss

ෆ It started with a picture.

Nothing even dirty—just you sitting on the floor in gym shorts, eating candy, scrolling your phone. You’d sent it without thinking. But Yuji had stared at it for hours.

Your bare thighs. Your soft lips. Your fingers holding the wrapper like they could be wrapped around his cock instead.

Now?

He was on his stomach, shirtless, hips grinding into his pillow—face flushed, breath panting, your photo glowing on his phone screen like a shrine beside him.

The camera was on.

He was filming himself.

One hand fisted around his cock, soaked with spit and leaking pre like a fucking faucet, and the other held the edge of the pillow he was rutting into—hard, like he was pretending it was you underneath him.

“Nngh—fuck—” he moaned, already flushed, already twitching. “F-fuck, baby, y’don’t even know—don’t even knowhow bad I want you—”

He looked at the camera—right into it—as his hips bucked fast.

“Can’t stop thinkin’ about you,” he gasped, biting his lip. “Every time I see you smile, every time you bend over, I fuckin’—mmh—lose it—”

The wet sound of his cock stroking filled the room. His thighs were tensed. His face—sweaty, desperate, completely ruined—was twisted in pleasure as he thrust into the pillow like he wanted to breed it.

“Y’don’t even wear nothin’ skimpy—n-never even flirt—but fuck—” he moaned, voice cracking, “you make me so hard.I’d do anything—anything—just to see you cry on my dick.”

His hand moved faster, slick and furious, precum dripping over his knuckles, cock angry-red and throbbing in his fist.

Then—

“Fuckfuckfuck—I’m gonna—ngh—gonna cum—fuck, baby—!”

He choked out a moan—loud, shameless—as hot white ropes spilled over his fist, his abs, the pillowcase he’d been fucking raw. His legs kicked. His hips jerked. His whole body trembled.

But even as he came, even as he groaned through gritted teeth, he kept the camera on.

He wanted to save it.

So he could play it later.

To remember the way he moaned your name. The way he whispered “please, please just let me taste you once” as his cum splattered his stomach.

Because this was routine now.

Every night. Every morning.

Humping his sheets, jerking off in the shower, licking his lips as he imagined your pretty little cunt wrapped tight around him.

And he’d never tell you.

He’d just keep recording. Keep fantasizing. Keep coming to the thought of you crying on his cock.

[fayerie]

‹𝟹 .ᐟ gojo’s Infinity isn’t just a defense — it’s his ultimate tease.

‹𝟹 .ᐟ unhinged gojo x f!reader , mdni , not proofread

cw: smut , teasing , humiliation , use of supernatural ability (infinity) for: sensory play, orgasm control / denial.

you’re kneeling on the bed, chest pressed to the mattress, ass raised high like you’re on display in a fucking gallery.

your hands clutch the soft sheets beneath you, fingers digging in as you try to steady your racing heart.

gojo is hovering behind you, just barely out of reach. his cock is pressed flush against your slick entrance, teasing you with shallow, maddening thrusts — sliding in, then pulling back, never fully giving you the satisfaction you crave.

his fingers twitch near your clit, tantalizing you with phantom touches that feel like fire, but he never actually makes contact, oh why is that ? because he’s using his infinity, that damned invisible barrier.

“patience is a virtue, babe,” gojo purrs, voice dripping with smug delight as he leans close, his white hair brushing your shoulder; never pausing the torturous relentless toggle between activation and deactivation.

“the best things in life come to those who wait. like this.” he presses a teasing hip against your ass, pushing you down a little further onto his cock. “see? you’re dripping just by thinking about it.”

you whimper, hips trembling. “s-toru, please…” you gasp, voice shaky. “just… touch me... f'ckin..asshole.”

he chuckles, the sound low and amused, as if you’ve just told him the funniest joke in the world.

“oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, fingers hovering an impossible millimeter away from your clit, “i’m touching you right now. it’s just... very exclusive contact.”

you try to arch into him, reaching out to pull him closer, but your fingers hesitate — halted just shy of his wrist, as if an invisible shield shimmers between you, keeping your touch forever out of reach.

“infinity,” he smirks. “i’m untouchable, literally.”

your breath catches. the teasing rhythm is driving you insane.

“you like that? me almost touching you? that little spark? that burning frustration?” his voice is a lazy drawl, cocky as hell. “that’s the real game here.”

you bite your lip, moaning softly as his fingers twitch again. the wet heat pooling between your legs grows hotter, your hips rocking against him without control.

“nnngh, storu…” you whine, voice thick with need. “please—just one touch.”

he presses a finger closer, still not quite touching, and you shiver violently.

“mmm, you’re so needy.” he nips the shell of your ear, voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “what’s this? ‘satoru, i’m gonna—mmmph!’” he smirks against your skin as you gasp, a strangled moan slipping past your lips. “already breaking, huh?”

your hips jerk, thrusting down, desperate to catch even the slightest contact.

“pathetic,” he teases with a grin you feel in his voice.

then — finally — he lets his finger brush your clit, slow and precise.

electricity jolts through you like lightning.

you cry out, hips bucking hard. “ahhh—toru!”

he chuckles, utterly satisfied at how easily he breaks you.

“attagirl,” he breathes, sliding fully inside you at last, filling you deep and slow. “now this is where the fun really begins.”

his hand curls around your hip, holding you steady as his other fingers circle your swollen clit, sending shivers down your spine.

“you’re so wet for me,” he murmurs cockily. “dripping like you want me to ruin you.”

your moans weave through the room like a whispered hymn, beneath them the wet symphony of skin meeting skin — the slick, lingering traces of desire stretching between you both, trembling in the heated air.

“satoru—mmph—fuck—right there—oh god—please—” he grins against your neck, teeth grazing the skin.

“only the best spot for my favorite brat.”

your body trembles, legs shaking with the force of your building orgasm.

“c’mon,” he breathes, voice roughening, “say it. tell me how badly you want me to make you come.”

you pant, eyes fluttering closed. “please, toru… make me come.”

he chuckles again, hips rolling in slow, powerful thrusts, “good girl.”

you’re drowning in the mixture of his cock deep inside you and his fingers circling your clit like a merciless predator.

“ahhhh—oh god, i’m—” you moan, voice breaking with need. “i’m gonna—”

“cum for me,” he commands, voice velvet dark and dangerously smooth.

your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, muscles clenching around him, breath hitching as you scream his name.

gojo holds you tight, chest rising and falling against your back.

“see?” he says smugly, voice softening. “sometimes the best touch… is the one you almost can’t have.”

you laugh breathlessly, sweaty and spent, your fingers curling into the sheets.

gojo’s grin presses against your skin like a promise: he’s just getting started.

divider by @/cafekitsune // art by momoya348 on twt .ᐟ

a/n ‹𝟹: should i make this a series + make a mlist containing all my unhinged gojo drabbles bc i have so many ideas u would notttt believe (freak) now WHO said that ??? also this was quick so it's not as good as the others but still ^_^

[neodazed]

bf heeseung (kinda mean) OBSESSED with readers tiddies. Thats it. All day, all night, thats what he wants. In mouth, hands, whatever. To the point where it HURTS.

tried my best babes sorry if its ass (ironically) — 528

tw: tit!obsessed hee, mean, hurts a little, unprotected pinv, mdni

It’s actually so bad…

Heeseung is, no doubt, a tit-man. An addict. A worshipper. A sucker. A boob devoted desperate man.

First of all, he only falls asleep if he’s holding one of your tits. Cupped in his palm, all for him to fondle like a stress ball until he dozes off:( Or, if he’s particulalry a needy ass, he has to have it in his mouth. Yes, like an actual baby. You have mentioned to him that it might be a tiny bit weird, which only got you a warning glare, so…

That’s for the mornings. During the day, he also can’t and won’t go without them. He stands behind you while you’re getting ready in the bathroom and gropes you slowly, brushing his own teeth with his free hand, both an important part of his routine. And, most of the time, it’s not even sexual?? When you two study together, and he is fidgeting with your nipple, it’s not because he is hard, or wants to tease, it’s an automatic move for him. So when you ask him to stop, pissed off, he does not see the reason why, since it’s literally peak domestic activities for him…

‘What are you on? Let me spend time with my babies outside of sex. Just get back on your assignment and stay quiet.’

Sometimes, when you watch a horror or action movie, and he get’s excited or jumpscared, he squeezes so hard you actually don’t know if you want to whimper in pain or pleasure. He’d look at you, pretending to be sheepish about it, muttering a soft “sorry” and keeps doing it.

Because yeah, he puts all his stress and love, probably all his emotions to be honest, into those grips. And for you, it all has started to become a blurred mix of discomfort, concern, and pleasure.

In bed? If he was too much before, you should multiply that by a hundred, and then you’d get how Heeseung acts when you have sex.

His favorite positions are obviously cowgirl, and missionarry (he couldn’t choose between those two). It’s the easiest when you ride him, though. You always look so cute, grabbing onto his shoulder, bouncing yourself on his cock, keep pushing your chest in his face. He helps you with his hands, slams your pussy down onto his base again and again, while chasing after your tits like a starved man. Suckling, licking, biting…

The euphoria of your cunt cletching around him makes him lose his mind, not even attempting to be gentle with you in the moment, cause he knows he can’t. With one especially strong squeeze of your pussy, he bites down, hard, and your fingers immediatelly find his hair, trying to pull him off, a pained hiss leaving your lips.

‘Hee, stop, it hurts!’ You whimper, and he pulls off for a minute.

‘It can’t hurt that bad, since you just came for the third time.’ — He rolled his eyes, fucking up into you harder — ‘Shut up, and take it. Give me my tiddies back.’

[sturnioz]

‘JUST US TONIGHT’ — CHRIS STURNIOLO

pairing. chris sturniolo x fem!reader genre. smut

word count. 1.5k

❝you can make as much noise as you want. it's just us tonight, remember?❞

content warnings. explicit content, heavy kissing, mentions of love bites, oral (female receiving), clit stimulation, fingering, hair pulling.

As much as you love spending time with Chris’ brothers, nothing compares to having him all to yourself. One-on-one time with him will always be your favourite—just the two of you, no distractions. 

It’s not that you love Nick and Matt any less. In fact, you genuinely enjoy being around them—laughing until your bellies ache, throwing sarcastic and playful jokes and comments, or heading out on road trips to your favourite restaurants, scenic spots, or late-night convenience stores for snacks.

But time alone with just Chris? That’s something completely different. When it’s just the two of you, his focus is solely on you—his attention, his affection, his love—and your focus is entirely on him too. It’s in those moments that everything slows down, and you enjoy each other's presence a lot more than usual. 

But right now, in his bed, rolling around the sheets… Nothing is slow.

Chris deepens the kiss, his body hovering above yours, holding his weight up by his arms as his tongue slides into your mouth with a hunger that sends a rush of warmth shooting through your veins. His hands slide up your body, under your shirt, his palms hot against your bare skin.

He breaks the kiss only to trail his mouth along your jaw, then lower—pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, lingering against your pulse point before he sucks gently at the sensitive area, leaving behind a few love bites.

Chris starts tugging on your shirt, twisting the material between his fingers, “Take this off,” he murmurs, his lips now kissing down your collarbone.  

You’re quick to obey, sitting up to pull it over your head, discarding it somewhere to the side. Chris pushes you back down onto the bed, his body covering yours once again as his lips attack your bare chest with kisses, his lips brushing over your breasts teasingly. 

He starts to trail his way down, leaving a path of hot kisses along the curve of your stomach and to the waistband of your pants. You breathe out shakily, arching yourself into his touch and hissing when you feel his teeth nip at your hip, all while his fingers toy with the button your jeans—popping them open, starting to tug, wanting them off.

“You’re so impatient,” you can’t help but laugh out despite you already assisting him in taking them off, and Chris grins, glancing up at you from below through his eyelashes before his lips meet your skin again, placing a kiss on the spot he previously nipped. He makes his way down further, his face now hovering over your panties, and you stiffen, a plea suddenly falling past your lips. “Please…”

“Please?” he repeats to you with a hum, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as his brow lifts. “Who’s the impatient one now?” 

His fingers move along the edge of your panties for a few seconds before he finally starts to pull the damp material down over your knees and calves, almost getting them tangled in your feet until he gently pulls each foot through. 

“Touch me,” you whisper softly.

He leans in, leaving a trail of kisses along your inner thighs, inching closer to where you really want him to be. “I am touchin' you, baby.” he makes his point by dragging his fingers lightly across the side of your thighs, causing goosebumps to rise to your skin.

Chris continues to tease you, his lips just barely ghosting over where you’re yearning for him—his hot breath becoming too much for you to hold back as your hips move, trying to coax him closer. He feels your frustration growing, but he keeps you in place, that smirk on his face growing wider.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” he asks, peering up at you, his voice dipping low and hoarse. “I can only touch you if you tell me where.” 

You find yourself being a little defiant, huffing quietly. “You know where I want you to touch me.” 

His fingers find your clit in an instant, starting to rub you in slow, tantalising circles. “Here?” he asks, tilting his head to the side, his cheek resting against your knee. “Is this where you want me to touch you?” 

Your breath gets caught in the back of your throat, a quiet, strained whimper leaving your lips. The unrushed rubbing of his fingers has you twitching, and your thighs begin to close around his hand, only to part when you feel his pace speed up, the pressure getting a bit harder too, and you can feel yourself becoming more aroused and yet. 

“Does that feel good?” he asks, his eyes locking on your face, wanting to watch you slowly unravel under his touch. “Doing this, touching you like this, does it feel good?” 

“More,” you manage to force out, your chest rising and falling quickly. “Need more.” 

Chris shakes his head, murmuring something under his breath about how demanding and greedy you are as he lays on his stomach between your parted legs, getting himself comfortable before he leans in, his warm breathing ghosting over your soaked folds as his fingers continue their ministrations on your clit. 

The exhale you take is sharp—quick—almost dizzying as you feel Chris’ tongue gently trace over your slit, tasting you, before the wet muscle moves in long, languid strokes. The repeated motions match the pace of his fingers, and you find yourself pressing your head back further into the pillows behind you, your neck straining, lips parted with each gasped breath. 

Your hips rise off the bed, chasing more of his tongue that happily obliges, pushing between your puffy folds to poke at your opening, causing your gummy walls to clench around nothing in response—releasing more arousal that he licks up without question, a hum of satisfaction vibrating his chest.

Chris’ thumb leaves your clit, and you almost whine and complain, desperate to have him touching your little bundle of nerves again until you feel his mouth press against it, lips sucking as his two fingers slowly sink into your entrance. 

He gives you a moment to get used to the familiar stretch before he moves them in and out, curling the digits to stroke your inner walls, grazing over that spongy spot that has you seeing stars in seconds—heat zapping down your spine and making your toes curl. 

Your lips pressed together tight with muffled moans, teeth gnawing down on your bottom lip, almost hard enough to draw blood as your fists clench, keeping quiet for no apparent reason. Chris seems to catch onto that, and he pulls his lips away from your clit to speak clearly.

“You can make as much noise as you want,” Chris says, keeping his fingers pumping in and out of you. “It’s just us tonight, remember? You don’t need to hold back.” 

And with that, the sound that rips from the back of your throat is loud—needy and desperate—almost broken as your hands find his messy hair, threading your fingers through the strands to tug him back to your pussy, shivering when his mouth returns to your clit. 

Chris’ fingers reach further, almost knuckle deep as he scissors them, and you can feel the stretch deep within, your pussy pulsing around during every deliberate curl. You can sense yourself getting wetter—you can hear it—the loud squelching sound emitting from between your legs with each thrust of his fingers and slurp of his tongue. 

He’s not holding back now, he’s devouring you, the taste of you seeming to get to his head as he becomes relentless, making you squirm and wail beneath him at the sudden change.

You’re not complaining, you’ll never complain. 

This is what you wanted. 

This is what you needed.

You’re a mess, you’re loud, you’re clamping your thighs around his head and rolling your hips up to hump his face. He doesn’t stop you, either. He allows you to do whatever you please, keeping his grip firm on your waist with one hand while the other works inside you, twisting his fingers, curling them, pumping in and out to drive you toward your release.

It happens quick and fast, the coil in your tummy snapping before you can utter the words that you’re cumming. You shake and tremble, your inner walls contacting and pulsing around his fingers as you spill all over his eager tongue, licking and sucking at your soaked pussy. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head with a strained whine, your back bowing off the bed, kicking out your legs with a squeal as he flicks over your clit once, twice, three times before he pulls away from you. 

Chris moves himself up your body, his lips seeking out yours. You can taste yourself on his mouth that glistens with your juices, and you mewl softly, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your release as your arms limply slide around his shoulders, exhaustively kissing him through it—melting beneath him as he mutters sweet, affectionate praises against your lips.

© STURNIOZ est 2025 𐔌 . all rights reserved.

[fleurbly]

Hiiii. Fell inlove with your writing! Saw you are maybe planning on writing some cook fics. Would love him with a posh girl who doesnt fall for his flirting and just insults him alot. He loves it and it just makes him eant her more! Nsfw.... wink wink. Love you even if you wont care for this idea <3

── YOU IGNORE COOK one, two many times 𝜗𝜚

drabble warnings: non-con, dub-con, aged!up characters (including aged!up cook), dark and even more unhinged cook.

pairing: james cook x fem!reader

notes: so i took this ask in a way more darker approach, so please if the tags do affect you (since it’s non-con) please do not read it whatsoever. dead dove do not eat.

don’t like it don’t read it.

it’s the kind of night cook thrives in, loud, messy, soaked in sweat and cheap liquor. but you? you’re something else. too posh for this chaos, cool and untouchable, like you don’t belong in his world. you don’t look at him. never have. and that’s the thing, that’s what drives him wild.

he finds you leaning against the bathroom sink, perfect and distant, glossing your lips like it’s a game you’re already winning. when he slips inside and locks the door behind him, you don’t even glance up.

“thought you were better than this,” cook growls, fingers curling tight at your waist, pulling you closer. “thought you could walk past me like i’m nothing.”

you don’t say a word. you don’t look. you just click your gloss shut, deadpan.

he laughs, dark and sharp. “yeah, right. but here you are. always here. always mine.”

you try to step past, and he blocks you.

“move.”

“no.”

finally, your eyes flick up— not with fear, not even with anger, just pure, cold annoyance.

“what do you want, cook?”

he hates how good that sounds. his name like a curse in your mouth. it cracks something in him. he grabs your leg, tucks it high on his hip, presses you hard against the counter. the mirror rattles.

you don’t flinch. don’t beg.

“you think you’re too posh for me,” he snarls, nose brushing yours. “too good to even look my way. but you’re dripping for me.”

you shove at his chest. “because i am.”

that’s all it takes.

he kisses you like it’s punishment. rough, desperate, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth just to see if you’ll push him harder. you do. and he likes it.

“don’t,” you say, sharp and low. “get off.”

but there’s a hitch in your breath. a break in your voice. and cook hears it.

his hand moves under your skirt, over your thigh, slow and deliberate. when you try to twist away, he grabs your hips and holds you still. the tension between you hums like electricity, tight and dangerous.

“don’t fuckin’ lie to me,” he says against your neck. “you’ve thought about this. you’ve wanted this.”

you slap him, open palm to his chest. his head drops, breathless, wild with it. “perfect,” he mutters.

the door shakes behind you. someone knocks, distant and muffled. you open your mouth, but his hand covers it instantly.

“shh,” he says, lips against your ear. “just take it. don’t ruin it now.”

you bite his hand. he groans, hips jerking against you like he’s grateful for the pain.

he slides inside you with a groan so deep it sounds like it’s torn from his chest. your breath catches, body stiffening. he doesn’t wait, doesn’t ask. he moves like he owns you, like he’s been waiting too long to pretend to be careful.

your hand clutches the counter, knuckles white, the edge digging into your palm. he pushes you back, keeps your leg up, grinding deeper, slower now— like he wants to memorize how you feel.

“look at you,” he growls. “look at what i do to you.”

you refuse. head turned away, lips pressed tight.

he fucks you harder for it.

your back arches. you gasp. try to stay quiet, but he catches the little sound you make, the way you shudder, and it fuels him. his grip bruises. his pace gets brutal.

“you broke me,” he pants. “don’t even know it, do you?”

you say his name, finally. a whisper. a plea. you don’t know if it’s to stop or to keep going, but it’s the only thing he needed to hear.

he drags it out. makes you feel every second of it. and when you break— shaking, lips parted, eyes unfocused, he slows. presses his forehead to yours, still inside you, still holding your leg like you might try to run.

“there,” he breathes. “my posh little nightmare. knew you’d break for me.”

and when it’s over, he doesn’t let go. just holds you there, jaw clenched, breathing hard.

“this isn’t over,” he says. “you’re mine. don’t forget that.”

[lazarusbrat]

BEDTIME (sleepy!damian wayne x horny!reader)

you feel bad for waking your boyfriend up, but you can’t help that you’re horny.

cw: nsfw, unprotected sex, p in v, nothing else i can think of.

wc: 1254

“damian…”

you nudge him for what felt like the millionth time. it’s just past two o’clock in the morning and while your boyfriend is usually a light sleeper (keeping an eye out for your safety even while sleeping), he’s out cold tonight. it almost makes you feel bad for why you’re trying to wake him up. the sun isn’t even out yet, but you can’t help the burning heat that has settled between your legs.

you groan a little when he doesn’t wake up, squeezing your thighs together for any sort of friction that will help rub against your most sensitive parts. a tiny whine escapes between your clenched teeth, but only relieving a fraction of your horniness.

damian’s body turns around to lay on his back and he brings his hands up to rub his eyes. he blinks up at you, who’s practically leaning over his body while holding yourself up on your elbows.

“y/n?”

you bite your lip when the sound of his scruffy sleep voice makes its way to your ears. another sound close to a whine climbs out of your throat.

“i’m so sorry, dami. i really am.”

blinking slowly, he looks around confused, trying to search for any signs of what you might be apologizing for. “what…?”

“i think it’s because of that movie we watched before bed. you know, the one with the sex scene? god, i don’t know, but i just… i can’t-”

you’re speaking so fast that damian has to force himself fully awake to even make out what you’re saying. he flops back down on his back, while you’re still rambling, once he realizes that there’s nothing seriously wrong. just the fact that you're extremely horny and almost on the verge of humping his leg like a dog.

“dami, please. please. i’ll be so good, i promise. i’ll go back to sleep right after, you’ll see.”

he lets out a sigh, one you know he doesn’t mean, before rolling over on top of you, silencing your rambling. his forearms plant themselves in the bedding right by your head. now hovering over your body, he connects your lips together and you think you might cum just from his hungry kiss as your tongues press into one another.

reaching down, he slowly tugs down your loose, silky pajama shorts. a groan from deep within his chest breaks free at the realization that you aren’t wearing any underwear underneath. two of his long fingers run through your wet folds. he hisses through his teeth at the feeling of your warmth that welcomes him eagerly.

your grip on his large biceps tighten when you feel him start to rub your clit gently. you whimper into his mouth with consuming bliss, and you whine when he pulls his fingers away. hooking his hands onto the back of your thighs, he pushes them up softly to your chest, expecting you to keep them positioned there while he starts to pull down his boxers. two thumbs tuck under the band of his boxers and he quickly shoves the front part down to expose his hard cock.

unable to control yourself, you wrap your legs around his hip and tug him towards your open cunt. you circle your arms around his neck and lift your upper body to connect your lips again. he lets out another groan and he moves his body forward, making your back meet the mattress again slowly. his cock slides into you inch by inch the closer he gets to pressing your chests together. by the time he’s fully inside, your breasts are painfully squished by his pecs and his forearms are back to resting by your head.

his hips start rolling into yours, painfully slow, and you feel your toes starting to go numb. you think he’s doing it on purpose, moving agonizingly slow just to punish you for disturbing his peaceful sleep. but, my god, it feels good. that slow, pulsing drag of his veiny cock along your fluttering walls is still enough to make it feel like he’s fucking a hole through you. he finishes every rolling thrust with a hard shove upward into your cervix and you swear you feel him all the way up in your throat.

“i’m sorry for waking you,” you say, rushing through desperate whines. truly, you were sorry. you know he never gets a proper amount of sleep and the fact that you woke him up just to fuck you made you feel bad.

“god, fuck, i’m not,” he says, groaning as he pushes himself deeper into your cunt.

you choke back a sob so as to not be so unnecessarily loud this early in the morning, covering your mouth with the back of your hand. your eyes flutter shut and you hear him tsk before pulling your hand away and pinning it beside your head.

“none of that,” he warns. damian cups the side of your face with his warm hand and slides his thumb into your mouth to keep it open. his own makeshift way to ensure he can hear your moans and whimpers.

“oh, damian,” you mewl, head shooting back against the pillow as he hits the deepest parts of you continuously.

his other hand squeezes at your hip, hiking your leg further up his waist, and drives into you harder. his pace is still set in that slow, romantic rhythm but his hips are determined to snap at just the right angle to get you to the edge of release. pulling his thumb out of your mouth, slick with your saliva, he brings it down to rub tight circles on your clit.

clawing at the sheets, you bend your back into a nasty arch that ignites something feral in his chest. damian rests a forearm horizontally right above your head and bruises your lips with his own. it’s a filthy kiss. one that would have a grade A pornstar clutching their pearls. teeth biting tongues, and he drinks up every sound you make like it’s an aged wine brewed just for his tastes.

“i’m gonna… i’m cumming,” you whine into his mouth.

your arms wrap around his neck, reaching up to tangle in his hair. damian snakes his hand to the back of your head and lightly takes a fistful of hair to pull your lips apart. he tilts your head back to give him a perfectly clear view of your fucked out face. your brows scrunch together and you're practically cross-eyed, and it makes his cock throb in your warm cunt.

“nasty girl,” he grunts, and his abs get tight as he rocks his hips a couple more times to chase his release.

he hisses when he cums, putting all his body weight onto your trembling body. you welcome him by locking your legs around his hips and digging your nails into his shoulders. you press lazy kisses onto the side of his face before he turns his head to interlock your lips together once more. it’s slow this time as he caresses your waist. he kisses your cheek and lets his nose drag along it as he whispers in your ear.

“you gonna let me give you another one?” his voice is groggy and sleepy, but he smiles against your cheek when he hears you giggle. he hoists you up into his arms and lowers you down into his lap. his hands grip your hips and he begins grinding up onto you, ready to postpone your sleep like you did to him.

an: I’m gonna start finishing your requests soon bbys <3

[angelyuji]

first time writing yandere reader so lmk if it SUCKS but i hope u guys like it calebs part was inspired by catch-22 caleb that made me so freaked up i started dreaming abt caging him like a dog and also a tweet abt caleb body worship so here you go

minors dni!!!!!!

caleb x yandere!reader (gender neutral!reader)

cw // kidnapping, dubcon, slight noncon, calebs also into the yandere-ness, the usual yandere/toxic behavior, body worship, reader is freaked up!

caleb moans against his gag, eyes bleary as he started to wake up. he mumbles around his gag, trying to recognize his surroundings.

"morning, colonel." a familar, sweet voice jolts his mind clear.

"mmhph?" caleb's question is clear as he calls out your name. you smile and his heart flutters. he looks around, your bedroom looked exactly as he thought it would. the only difference being how he's tied up against your bedframe. you climb onto the bed, sitting between his open legs.

"i didn't want to do this, y'know." you lean against his chest and caleb feels his heart beat faster. "but when i found out that you were in skyhaven, alive, and you didn't even tell me..." you look up at caleb, eyes watering. caleb mumbles again, forgetting his state of capture. you shush him, "it's okay. i figured you were in trouble, so i helped you! you're safe here." you lean back, cuddling yourself into his chest. caleb tries to wrap his arms around you, but the chains holding him back restricted his movements. you seem to sense his need to get out of his binds, but instead take off the gag in his mouth.

"(y/n), what're you doing?" caleb tries to keep his voice soothing, unsure if you've went insane since he disappeared.

you frown, ignoring his question to unbutton his shirt, "i wanna feel you, how much you've changed since i last saw you." you pout and caleb shivers as he feels your nimble fingers slowly undressing him.

"pipsqueak-" your hands were cold as you slowly carass his chest. caleb holds back a moan, choosing to let out a strangled groan at your touch.

"caleb, you've changed so much, but you're still my caleb... aren't you?" your voice is quiet, almost in awe as your nails softly trace his skin. "still the same caleb that protected me, kept me safe... my beautiful caleb..."

"n-no, pips- we can't-" you tweak his nipple and caleb yelps in surprise. "(y/n)!"

you shush him again, "you said that back then too." you sniffle, "i know you like me too, caleb. so why are you still..." he feels you bury your face into his chest.

"because..." caleb pauses, heart aching. "i have to protect you. you're my everything, (y/n)... so i can't..." you wait for him to continue, but caleb looks away. "please... at least help me put my shirt on." you sigh and caleb looks back, searching your face as you think.

caleb loves you more than he could ever put into words, he knew you better than he knew the back of his own hand. he could look at you and tell right away exactly what you were thinking. whether you were upset with him or excited for something, your face always gave it away to him. so why can't he tell what you're thinking right now? why do you feel like a stranger to him?

"it's okay, caleb. i understand." you straighten and caleb sighs in relief.

a weird part of him was slightly disappointed by how quickly you changed your mind, but still relieved nonetheless. "good, now help me-"

"i guess i have to change your mind." you smile, innocently, and caleb's eyes widen.

"what?" you move back to get close to his crotch and caleb struggles harder. your hands hold his thighs down, restricting his panic."wait, (y/n), don't-" before he could protest, he feels your warm mouth press right below his belly button. he moans, unable to hold it back, "(y/n)-"

you giggle, biting into the skin of his pelvis, "you're so pretty, caleb. even after all this time, you're still so pretty." he couldn't hold back his pleasure, feeling your teeth pierce his skin. your warm tongue licking up the sweat building on his happy trail.

he whines as you move up away from where he truly wanted you, "pips-" he strains against his restraints, ashamed, as he hears himself panting like a dog in heat.

your voice is soft and he feels his body pulse in need as you whisper in his ear, "be patient, caleb.... let me show you how much i love you."

[toasterdrake]

it sounds sus ik but i promise this is v wholesome i just couldn’t figure out a fitting title. there is discussion of injuries, but in a loving and positive way.

or maybe i'm just freaky w it who knows. this isn't just a me thing, right? right? can anyone hear me

Carve Your Love - Rumi x gn!Reader

summary: Rumi's demon side tends to rear its head in moments of intense emotion. she's so, so careful with it, but sometimes, accidents happen. and you're going to be covered in scars if you stay with her.

or, 5 times Rumi feels guilty about scarring you + 1 time she doesn't. (+ implied first 'i love you's but it's kinda subtle)

word count: ~900

warnings: mentions of blood, injuries, scars

1) An impromptu play-fight on the couch, wrestling over the remote when you can't agree on a movie. Rumi grips your shoulder to shove you away, only gentle, only playing, but her nails bite deep. Pinpricks form a weeping constellation in the shape of her palm. She avoids touching you a long time after that, until you're kissing her knuckles and murmuring endearments.

2) A surprise party for her birthday. You had kept her out of the HUNTR/X building all day while the others set up. The lights and the shouting trigger the primal part of her that wants to fight, or run, or both. Rumi clamps down so hard on the instinct that her hand digs into your arm instead, gauging your skin.

You wave off any concern, cleaning the cuts and wrapping them up without fuss so that everyone can get back to the party. To celebrating Rumi. Later, people ask if you have a rowdy cat. You snicker, a playful glint in your eyes when you glance at her, and say yes.

3) You're kissing on her bed. Rumi is sitting against the headboard, you in her lap, lost in each other. You nip at her bottom lip; she jolts, surprised; her thumb stroking your cheek lengthens to a point. There's a hiss between your teeth when you pull away, but then you're laughing. Somehow, Rumi laughs too.

4) Crashed together on the couch after a long, taxing day, her fingers fold into the baby hairs curling at the back of your neck. The action movie playing behind her has been so entirely forgotten that the sudden explosion makes her jump. Hard. Her patterns flare, her pupils shrink to golden slits, and her claws extend.

You're drawn out of a sleepy haze by stinging at your hairline. Blindly wiping away rivulets of blood tickling your skin, you grumble incoherently and turn over, away from the bright light of the TV and closer to her front. Rumi kisses her blunder, to clean and to soothe.

5) Rumi is holding you to her chest. She's never been so afraid. Even if it means hating herself, she hates demons for hurting you. Her claws tear up your back. Your hand strokes her cheek, wiping tears as they fall. You're saying something, but it's too strained to get through the throbbing of the Honmoon around her.

1.

Opaque patterns weaving between her fingers glare at Rumi in pulsing blue as she unwraps your bandages. They fall in ribbons on the bedspread between the two of you, revealing raised scars. Rumi fights her hands for a second, then runs her fingertips over the ridges of healed skin. A knot twists in her stomach when one runs longer than her forearm.

''That tingles,'' you murmur, humour in your voice.

Rumi frowns. You always talk about the ways she hurts you as if they're nothing worth writing home about. As if she doesn't see you study them in mirrors. As if they're not the first thing each of you looks at in intimate moments.

''It used to do more than tingle.'' Her voice is clipped. Harsher than she meant it to be, but maybe she wants you to be aware of her displeasure.

You turn your head a little, trying to see more of her face past your shoulder. ''Babe?'' You ask for her thoughts, in that hushed, steady tone you use when you suspect she's falling into old habits. A quiet reminder that she doesn't have to lie to keep herself safe, any more.

Rumi folds to it, like always.

''I--'' she pushes out a breath and closes her eyes, thinking on what she wants to say, ''I feel like I'm the only one worrying about how I hurt you. Not just now, but all the time!'' She reaches out to trace a fresh scar again, only a little lower on your back than an older one. ''I'm ruining you.''

She catches the corners of your eyes tighten before you move to face her. You reach over the bandages between you to take her hands, first bringing them to your lips to kiss her knuckles, then spreading her fingers over the echo of her palm on your shoulder.

''Never say that.'' You shake your head, and the intensity in your eyes has her speechless, breathless. Your thumb runs over the back of her hand; so careful and soft. ''I cherish them. Every one.''

''You-- what?''

You glance away, embarrassment clear on your face, but squeeze Rumi's hand.

''I've never said this, because it's kind of weird, but I look forward to your cuts scarring. They're reminders of memories that are very precious to me, in the most permanent form. Even more than a tattoo. Journals and photos can be lost or ruined, but these?'' You gesture over your shoulder at the new ones etched in your back. ''They're forever.''

Rumi only realises she's crying when you lean in, wiping away tears. She presses into your hands, and they stay even when her cheeks dry.

''I love you,'' is the first thing out of her mouth when she figures out how to speak again. It tumbles out before she can really consider it, the weight of it -- but you smile, and repeat it back like every time she hurt you was a confession itself.

[mintmatcha]

Mint, how does Beau and Ryan’s first meeting go??? Especially if it’s too close to the full moon 👀 Is he like “must keep one hand on her at all times” or “I’m gonna tear this fucker’s throat out with my teeth”? 👀

The FIRST FIRST time? oh beau was confused how to feel because it was early into their 'thing' and ryan had clearly just spent the night.

"Oh, uh-" you cleared your throat as you answered the door, peeking through the crack. A normal person probably couldn't taste in the air how someone else's sweat, cum and cologne has settled into your skin, but Beau could. Beau could. Your shoulder was alight with bite marks, the divet of teeth still fresh. The wild part of his brain reveled in that: you like it rough, you like teeth, you want to be--

"Mr. Russell-"

"I told you, Mr. Russell was my father. Just call me Beau."

"I totally forgot that we were going in town together. I don't want to hold you up."

Beau leans back on to a support bean on the porch. It creaks a bit too much under his weight.

"I don't mind waiting," Beau replies. "You can't be loading furniture into your car. Or that damn Tesla."

Your eyes go wide. The spare car in your driveway certainly wasn't hard to miss. You allow the door to slide open more- you aren't nude, but dressed in this alluring little silk slip that nearly drops Beau's jaw.

"That's Ryan's car. He's my-"

"Husband."

The man himself shoulders in. He's surprisingly dressed, adjusting the cuffs on his suit with a smug little shake of his wrist. Ryan smiles with way too much teeth, hand out as if sealing a business deal, not meeting a neighbor. Beau takes it and both men squeeze in silent competition.

(Beau certainly wins. He has to win.)

"Ex-husband." you clarify. "And he was just going."

"Maybe I'll stay around. I can help you move that stuff," Ryan says. "We wouldn't want to bother your... friend here."

"Oh, helping a neighbor could never be a bother." Beau decides to smother the competition in southern hospitality. "'sides, I gotta go into town and buy some things for dinner. You wanna stop by and eat with the boys if you ain't sick of us by the end of the day?"

Ryan's head snaps towards you with this glowering glare and suddenly Beau understands exactly why you two are breaking up.

"We were-" Ryan starts.

"You were grabbing a flight back to New York," you say pointedly. "Goodbye, Ryan."

Ryan tsks, but leans in for a kiss. You practically straight arm the man, pushing him away.

"Goodbye!" you repeat. "Bye! Tell the lawyers I said hi!"

[returnofeternity]

thinking abt hooking up w jackie at a party as "an experiment". then suddenly the next party u go to shaunas POUNCING u bc u fucked jackie and she just has to have u now. jackie getting jealous and fucking u again. just.... jackieshauna not wanting to ruin their friendship so they have sex thru u leaving hickies on top of each other asking u what its like w each other adopting each others style to fuck u. - 🥸

shauna watching you and jackie whisper to each other across the room, growing even more pissed when she accidentally destroys and spills the red solo cup filled with vodka all over her shirt. shauna who uses the upstairs bathroom instead of the downstairs one to clean herself up because it's more convenient! definitely not because it's right next to the room she knows jackie pulled you to! and she definitely doesn't listen in for a bit before going back to the party and sulking!

the next party is dizzying. you barely last 5 minutes inside, trying to find your friends and grab a drink, before shauna's pouncing on you. she makes sure to drag you near where jackie can see, her strong arm wrapped around your waist and leading you a room where she has to kick out other people who are trying to hook up. thinking of shauna being so rough while she straps you, but so gentle while kissing over jackie's hickeys. then she starts smelling jackie's perfume on you and gets rough :p just clamping her teeth over one of jackie's marks, eyes fluttering as she ruts into you and imagines you as jackie.

shauna's so rough compared to jackie. not that jackie wasn't rough as well, but shauna's rough-rough, while jackie was needy-rough. her hands wandered all over your body, molding you into whatever she needed it to be. shauna just takes. she bites and kisses over all over jackie's marks like she's trying to eat you and jackie alive.

"shauna, fuck, slow down." you grunt, holding onto the bed sheets tightly as she fingers you. your back arches off the bed when she shoves a third finger in, your hole throbbing around them like it's trying to swallow them whole. her free hand pins your waist down, and you can feel the memory of jackie's hand pinning you down the same way burn on your skin. it's like you can feel them both at once, touching you, marking you.

jackie's even worse the second time she fucks you. she sees what shauna's done to you when she comes over to your place, wanting to experiment again, and huffs at the bite marks covering up her work.

"did shauna touch you like this?" jackie mutters into your skin, her tongue drawing slow, antagonizing circles on your clit. it makes your thighs tremble, and jackie gets a power rush out of making you so needy for her as you paw at her head. you lick your lips and choke out a groan, mind blanking as she dips her tongue inside your hole. "n-no, rougher. she was rough." jackie imagines shauna being rough with you, wondering if she would be as rough with her body.

something something jackieshauna giving you their clothes so they can "fuck" each other when they fuck you. it doesn't take a genuis to understand that they're using you, so you take the bait. you pick up jackie's "forgotten" sweater she left at your place when it's time to meet with shauna.

she goes crazy when she sees jackie's sweater on you. makes you keep it on while fucking you nasty just so she can inhale jackie's scent and get off from it. she drools and smears her cum on it, grunting for you to not wash it before you give it back to jackie. she gets so hard she almost passes out when she sees jackie wear it a few days later and has to drag you away to fuck her feelings away.

you grab shauna's t-shirt that she left on your floor when you see jackie next. she's possessive and desperate and clawing at it while you finger her, her lips rubbing against the hickey's shauna left on your neck. she also makes you leave it on all night long, kisses down your chest with lipgloss on and stains it just for shauna <3

[kinardsevan]

fuck-it fraturday

I'm a little late getting something posted, mostly bc I was writing this to be a mini, and now its 4k long (because I continue to lie to myself about being able to do minis, okay?), and I'm too tired to finish.... so have this until tomorrow

(an "Evan transfers to 217" fic):

“I just don’t understand why it matters that much to you what Eddie does if I don’t want to be with him,” Evan states, hands almost elbow-deep in soapy water. 

“Well, I don’t like the idea of anyone verbally abusing you, first of all,” Tommy responds as he towel-dries a plate, shooting a look in Evan’s direction. It warms something in the middle of the younger man’s chest. “But more than that, Evan, you bend over backwards for people. Look where we are? And I don’t mean that in a bad way, but…it’s not your job to save everyone.” 

“So I should’ve stayed in the house?” Evan asks, passing Tommy an empty bottle. The pilot rinses it off, shaking his head. 

“Do you want to live in the house?” He counters. “Look, it’s not actually about the house. At the end of the day, it’s about what you want.” 

Evan looks over at him, his jaw set as he gulps, his brow furrowed. 

“What?” Tommy asks. 

“I tried asking for what I wanted,” Evan responds. “And you left.”

Tommy inhales a breath, opens his mouth as his gaze turns away and his hands drop at his sides. But Evan reaches out and grabs the pilot by his forearm. Water run down his golden skin in tiny rivulets with tiny suds. Tommy bites his cheek for a moment before finally looking back at Evan. 

“It’s been almost nine months now,” Evan tells him. “And I’m standing here telling you I still haven’t changed my mind. So am I just wasting it, Tommy? Can you tell me if I’m supposed to just move on? Because I can go find somewhere else to sleep, and another place to work. But- but-…” He lets go of the pilot’s arm, glancing toward the hallway briefly at the sound of Jee-Yun shifting in her bed. When it’s clear she isn’t coming out, he looks back at the other man. 

Tommy stares back at him, listening as he always has, but maybe only hearing for the first time. 

“You saw my loft before you. A-and you saw- you saw what Eddie’s house looked like, before- before I brought you home that night. S-so-..” 

“Okay.” 

Evan gulps. “Okay what?” 

“Okay,” Tommy acquiesces. He inhales a deep breath, swallowing nervously as he nods. “You’re right. You never changed your mind, and I keep bolting. And I’m trying here, Evan; I am. I’m…I”m trying to take down walls I’ve had up for decades. And whether you believe it or not, you’ve gotten in deeper than anyone else ever has. But being together instead of being apart-…” He pauses for a moment, his arm turning in Evan’s hold as he tries to hold his hands out, gesticulating an attempt for answers he doesn’t fully have. 

Evan turns toward him fully, setting the wet washcloth in his free hand on the center divider of the sink before resting his wet hand against Tommy’s hip. His black t-shirt somehow manages to get darker under the wetness. 

“I’ve loved people intensely for very short periods of time only to face loss at a greater cost in the aftermath, and I meant it when I said I don’t think I could deal with that if it was you.” 

Evan stares up into Tommy’s eyes, rolling his cheek between his teeth briefly. 

“And Bobby’s death didn’t teach you anything in the face of all of that,” he asks. His tone is soft, unassuming, but he’s genuinely curious. 

“Sure, but-..” Tommy answers, even as his gaze shifts, his attitude exuding a sense of ‘what does it matter’. Evan lifts his hand on Tommy’s wrist up to the pilot’s cheek, pulling his attention back in. 

“No buts,” Evan states, shaking his head. “Don’t dismiss it. If it changed something, then what is so scary about saying it out loud?” 

He sees Tommy’s jaw clench, and his eyes flit to the older man’s lips. Still, after a moment, Tommy releases the tension, and Evan huffs. He drops his arms and turns away from him, moving back to the sink. 

“It baffles me that it’s easier for you to imagine a future for me with someone who verbally assaults me and threatens to hit me than to just tell me how you feel,” Evan chides, picking up the wash cloth. 

Tommy grabs his arm this time, spinning Evan back toward him. 

“Don’t do that.” 

“Do what?” Evan presses. “You’re saying you don’t care.” 

“I’ve ne-..” He glances toward the hall, inhales, and forces himself to switch to a stage whisper. “I have never said I don’t care about you. I-..” 

“You didn’t say otherwise,” Evan counters, setting the cloth back down before pointing at Tommy. “You said I was a ‘great guy’, funny, kind, and hot as hell. I asked you to move in with me—with those words—and you told me that I was hot.”

Tommy huffs at him, his jaw locking again. He pulls Evan into him tightly, his gaze flying straight down to the younger man’s lips as they stand close enough to feel the other’s breath on their mouths. 

“You know damn well that I think you’re more than just cute,” Tommy murmurs, his gaze trailing upward toward Evan’s eyes until he finds them. “You know that I…you have to know.” 

Evan stares back at him, his head tilting slightly toward the left. His expression is somber. “How? How am I supposed to know that? I asked for more and you told me no.” 

Tommy pulls him in the rest of the way, kissing him roughly. Evan goes with it, although his response is much softer. When his hand comes to rest on Tommy’s neck, the older man calms, slowing down, although he doesn’t break away. When Evan finally does to catch his breath, Tommy looks him over, smoothing the younger’s shirt. 

“I do love you,” he states softly. Evan looks up at him through his eyelashes. “I’ve loved you since long before I told you no.” 

“Then why-..” Evan asks as he tilts his head up, looking at Tommy clearly. Still, he stops himself, taking in everything they’ve argued about recently, back at Eddie’s place, and all the time in-between. He sighs. “You thought I’d come to the conclusion that I loved Eddie as more than a friend and didn’t love you.” 

“You did say you admired me,” Tommy reminds him. 

Evan cringes slightly, although he lets out a soft laugh. “In my defense, I do.” 

Tommy straightens up with a deep breath and Evan follows suit, stroking his thumb against the space in front of Tommy’s ear. 

“But before I ran over you with everything I said that night, I should’ve found a better way to communicate that I loved you, even if I didn’t fully understand it in those words yet.” 

“Loved?” Tommy questions. The apprehension in his expression turns knots in Evan’s stomach. 

“Love,” he answers firmly. “Present tense.” 

for reference on characters:

[dykeriver]

when you and ellie go to the park for a picnic, neither of you had expected to get this… sidetracked. but you couldn’t help it. you tried. ellie just looked so fucking good in her shorts and muscle tank, a black sports bra visible from her sides, clinging to her smooth skin. so when you grab her hand and drag her somewhere a little more secluded — read as: behind a huge boulder five minutes off the trail — you obviously need to absolutely have your way with her. and ellie’s a little confused, but your lips on her neck feel so good… and when you slide a hand down the front of her shorts, she gasps, pushing into your touch. “is this o-” but then, before you can even finish, she’s rapidly nodding her head and diving for your lips. you lean in, pressing your mouth against her’s, nearly clashing teeth with the desperation in which you kiss each other. slipping your fingertips into her panties, you push your fingers through her wetness, starting a deliberate pace on her clit the moment you find it. she keens against your mouth, high and needy. with your free hand, you make a grab for one of her slender thighs, pressing it up against the boulder to hold her open. ellie whimpers as her knee makes contact with the cold, smooth surface of the boulder. you go down a little further, tracing over her entrance before pushing in two fingers. “ha,” she moans, back arching a little bit. immediately she pushes down against them, and in response you curl them against her warm walls. slipping them out again after fucking her with them for a little while, you resume your movements on her clit, and she keens out the sweetest song for you. the leg ellie has keeping herself upright is trembling with effort and she’s falling apart, quickly, quickly. when she cums, it’s with a near shout. you lick and bite her neck as ellie’s orgasm rips through her, working her through the waves.

[gazstations]

Physically need Johnny in an apocalypse setting as well. Though, my brain likes to torture him, I guess. Um. I have another fluff idea incoming to pad this one. Hehe.

TW: angst, description of injuries and vomiting, unrealiable narrator (in some way)

Have Price's version if you want two parts of fluff rn

Dead weight was all you had.

Your shoulder was dragged down, curving your spine and provoking a deep ache in the dimples of your lower back. You clasped at the hand that belonged to the arm over your shoulders, gritting your teeth as you tried to make your steps the steps of another. Dragging across the ground, your mind was running a hundred miles per hour, but your vision was tunneled as well.

You were determined.

Up ahead, you saw the enclosed sanctuary you sought. Your heart was heavy, ignoring the biting of torn open flesh in your left leg. Walking on it was a fatal choice, but it was the only one you had. Swallowing the hurt, you heaved yourself by crumbling bone to reach salvation.

“Stop right there!”

Your footsteps seized immediately, breath stuttering as you gently prodded at the crimson stained wound on your leg. Your throat was tight, black spots filtering into your vision as you forced yourself to slowly look up at the top edge of the wall. Stopping only made it worse, and you dropped before you could even register.

Your companion crumpled faster, folding you over yourself. You grunted softly when you hit the ground, but your limbs were jelly and paper thin. Falling on your fucked leg shot adrenaline up your spine, making you look up once more at the wall.

“Shit! It’s MacTavish and Skipper!”

Identified, your body slumped. It now knew it was semi safe, yielding its life force to your group members.

You wanted to vomit up your insides, cracked lips parting, trying to bring in air. Though, that was the least of your worries when your skull was fracturing into small shards. Your brain was fiercely hrobbing underneath.

“Doe! Shite. Dinnae fash. Gonna help ya."

Johnny’s face was suddenly in your line of sight, and your head threw a fit from the motion blur effect you had going on. You flipped over onto your hands and knees, immediately expelling the contents of your stomach with a weakened form. It was burning up the lining of your esophagus and around your lips. Barely anything, but still, your contents were marinating outside your body on the asphalt. Not good.

Your arms shook as you tried to hold yourself up.

“S’alright,” Johnny’s face had morphed into absolute concern as he tried to figure out the best way to pick you up. Your leg wound was starting to drip horridly onto the ground as you only got dizzier. “Feck. C’mon, doe. Keep yer eyes open, aye?”

“Help Skipper,” you rasped as you grasped at the fabric of Johnny’s shirt. “Help…”

Your eyes rolled back as you collapsed. Heavy, pain-filled gasps left your lips as Johnny immediately, leg wound be damned, hoisted you into his arms. Your blood was already starting to coat his stomach as soon as he got you secured.

You let out a soft, puny whimper at the movement. Your eyes were unfocused as you tried to keep yourself awake. To keep you from taking another nose dive into worse conditions. You couldn’t do that to Johnny.

“Ah ken, doe. Ah got ya,” Johnny cooed. “Ye’re gonnae be okay. Oi… keep yer eyes open.”

You didn’t even notice yourself slipping. You blinked down at your leg, seeing the blood pool in such an unnatural way. It needed to be inside your body, right? Fuck, your leg was on fire. You knew you hadn’t nicked the femoral artery, or else you already would’ve been bleeding out. Yet, you would still bleed out, it would just be a slower process.

The outcome was always the same.

“Skipper…” you breathed.

“They’re already helpin’ the lad,” Johnny promised. “Ye just’ worry ‘bout yerself.”

“I…I got blood on you,” you mumbled.

Johnny smiled sadly. The conditions of that statement left no joy. The smile had to have been a pitying one. “Got worse on me before,” he assured.

You pouted before gritting your teeth and shifting uncomfortably. Now that your adrenaline was dying, the pain was increasing tenfold. You hated it. Almost felt worse than when the knife went into your flesh. It tore ligament, bone, and muscle. Yet, you were still not in nearly as much pain then as right now. But the squelch of your own body still echoed in your ears.

“Skip…” you repeated.

Johnny's gaze softened when he looked down at you, but you weren’t focusing on him. Johnny reached out to run a soothing hand at the back of your head, but his heart stopped when his hand was marked by crimson.

His eyes widened, full-fledged panic swelling his chest. He started rushing towards the medic, glancing down every second. “Shite!” He exclaimed. “Hang in there, doe. Ah'm gonnae get ye help.”

You, meanwhile, were slipping in and out. You pushed far too hard to get you and Skipper back home, and now your injuries were taking precedence. Your eyes fluttered just as Johnny started climbing the four steps it took to get into the designated medical building.

Everything was a blur.

“Nah, doe. Dinnae close yer eyes just yet,” Johnny pleaded. He was desperate, worried, heartbroken seeing you like this. You could process that much. You always read Johnny like a book.

“‘M tired…” you rasped.

“Nae, yer're not,” Johnny declared. “Keep talkin’ tae meh.”

But you were already crashing as soon as he got you onto a bed, not even waiting for a nurse to tell him what to do. He barked at someone to come help you right before you slipped under.

[luvly-writer]

Tale of Three Aching Hearts

Xaden Riorson x Reader

Masterlist:

VIOLET & XADEN Riorson Estate — war room turned temporary strategy den

Xaden stands near the fireplace, his shoulders tight, arms crossed. Violet has just finished telling him everything—and the fury in his eyes isn’t subtle.

“You went digging through my personal life?” he says, voice low and sharp.

Violet throws her hands up, her frustration spilling over. “Well, you never planned on telling me, did you? What choice did I have?”

“You had every choice,” he snaps, stepping closer. “You could’ve used that brilliant mind of yours for a thousand other things. But instead, you chose to spend your time prying into something that wasn’t yours to uncover. You hurt her, Violet.”

That hits like a slap.

“You mean Y/n,” Violet bites, folding her arms. “Right. The girl who already had a room next to yours, who has a ballroom built in her honor, who’s known you all your life—sorry I didn’t know I was just the new one crashing into your past.”

Xaden’s jaw clenches. “This isn’t about comparing—”

“Oh, isn’t it?”

He points at her, voice tight. “This is about you disrespecting boundaries. About you not trusting me to tell you things in time. I was working on it, Violet. Bit by bit. But no—you couldn’t wait.”

“I HAD to,” Violet snaps, “I asked. I didn’t snoop. I watched. I pieced it together because you never say anything. I’m in a relationship with a ghost, Xaden.”

He stares at her, disbelieving. “Who did you ask?”

Violet hesitates.

“…Bodhi.”

Xaden exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Of course. You tricked my cousin. Let me guess—made him think you already knew so he’d connect the dots for you?”

Violet opens her mouth, then closes it.

Which is answer enough.

“You know he’s too softhearted to lie,” Xaden says, furious. “You knew exactly what you were doing, Violet.”

“Well, maybe if you stopped being so damn secretive, this wouldn’t happen!” she fires back. “Every time I ask you something real, you shut down. You stonewall. How am I supposed to fall for someone who won’t even let me in?”

“I was trying,” Xaden says through gritted teeth. “You think I didn’t want to tell you things? You had Dain wrapped around you every day, Violet. He could rip memories from your mind the second he touched you. And you didn’t have your shields up—not the way you do now. I couldn’t risk everything for the sake of a truth you weren’t ready to hold.”

Violet’s breath catches.

“Oh,” she says coldly. “So this relationship wasn’t worth the risk.”

Xaden takes a step back, eyebrows furrowing. “That’s not what I said.”

“You didn’t have to,” Violet mutters, eyes burning. “I get it. The rebellion. Your secrets. The past. Her. All of it’s more important than me.”

He growls in frustration, voice rising. “I never said that! I’m doing my best, Violet. I’ve always done my best.”

“Well maybe your best isn’t good enough,” she snaps. “Because clearly, we’re not working.”

Silence falls like a blade between them.

They’re both panting—facing each other like enemies in the sparring ring.

“Maybe we just need to take a break,” Violet mutters, hugging herself.

Xaden’s expression darkens. “Maybe we should just end it.”

Her chest caves inward. “Fine.”

Xaden shakes his head, backing away like she physically struck him. “I can’t keep being with someone who tries to pry open my life without even respecting it.”

“And I can’t be with someone who refuses to trust me,” she spits back.

They stare at each other. Breathing hard. Angry. Hurt.

But beneath all of it… the sadness is unbearable.

Without another word, Violet spins around and storms out, her braid whipping behind her.

Xaden stays frozen in place, fists clenched, eyes locked on the door.

Only when he hears it slam shut in the hallway does he let out the shaky breath he’d been holding.

He leans back against the wall, eyes closed, one hand curling into a fist over his chest where her absence already aches.

VIOLET & HER SQUAD Riorson Estate — small common room off the East Wing, a makeshift “safe zone” of Iron squad

Violet slams the door open, eyes already brimming with tears as she storms into the room where Rhiannon, Ridoc, and Sawyer are playing some dumb strategy card game that none of them fully understand but pretend to dominate.

The three of them immediately sit up straighter when they see her.

“Oh no,” Ridoc says, placing his cards down. “That’s a breakup face. I’ve seen it before. Not on me though.”

“It wasn’t a breakup,” Violet says, her voice tight, her hands clenched. “It was… a storm. A fucking collapse.”

Rhiannon is already on her feet. “Vi, come here.”

Violet crosses the room and drops into the cushions beside her. Rhiannon wraps her arms around her while Ridoc and Sawyer shift closer, forming a tight circle like they always do when one of them is in freefall.

“I—I don’t even know what happened,” Violet stammers, her voice shaking. “I asked about Y/n, and he just—he exploded.”

“Yelled?” Ridoc asks gently.

“No,” Violet breathes. “Worse. Dismissed. It was like I crossed some sacred line and suddenly I wasn’t allowed to want to know.”

“You wanted to understand,” Rhiannon murmurs, stroking her back. “That’s not wrong.”

“I didn’t go digging to hurt him,” Violet whispers, eyes glossing over. “I just… I needed to know who she was. What she meant to him. I had to understand what I was seeing when they looked at each other.”

Sawyer leans forward. “You felt like you were losing him.”

Violet nods, biting her lip. “And now I have.”

They all go quiet for a moment.

Then Ridoc—usually the clown—speaks with surprising gentleness.

“Look, Vi… You’re not crazy for wanting to know what kind of history Xaden has with someone like Y/n. They clearly share something deep, and yeah, he’s not always the most forthcoming bastard on the planet.”

“No kidding,” Sawyer mutters.

“But,” Ridoc continues, “Xaden’s also not wrong. His life has never been his own. And the people he’s had to protect? That pressure doesn’t go away just because he loves you.”

Violet flinches slightly at the word loves, but doesn’t correct him.

“Y/n matters to him,” Rhiannon adds, softly. “That much is clear. And not because she threatens your place in his life, Violet. But because she was his life once. Before all of this.”

Violet’s breathing shallows.

“That doesn’t make what you feel any less valid,” Rhiannon assures her, holding her hand. “Jealousy, confusion, wanting the whole truth from someone you love—it’s human.”

“But sometimes,” Sawyer says carefully, “two people are just carrying so much past that it takes time to unravel. And you’ve barely had time to heal from what you just went through in Basgiath. You’re raw. He’s raw. And Y/n? I don’t think she’s stopped bleeding either.”

Violet presses her palms into her eyes. “So what do I do? Wait?”

“You breathe,” Rhiannon says, “You let time pass. You let yourself feel what you need to feel. But don’t force clarity from chaos. Let it settle first.”

Ridoc throws an arm around her shoulder. “And maybe don’t spy on your war traumatized boyfriend’s cousin next time.”

Violet gives a wet laugh despite herself.

They all chuckle a little, the tension easing—just slightly.

Sawyer hands her a water flask. “You’re not alone, Violet. We’ve got you.”

Rhiannon nods, eyes kind. “And whatever happens—whether it’s Xaden, or Y/n, or both of them somehow healing, or none of you speaking again for a while—you’ll survive it.”

“You already have,” Ridoc says softly.

And Violet, sitting there with her found family curled around her, knows it’s true.

Even if her heart is breaking… she’ll make it through.

VIOLET��S POV Aretia – A quiet corner of the Riorson Estate library, late afternoon

The light filters through the tall windows, casting long shadows across the marble floors. Violet sits with a book open on her lap, but she hasn’t turned a page in nearly twenty minutes.

She’s not reading. Not really. She’s watching.

Outside, through the open archway that leads to the back terrace, she can see them.

Xaden.

Y/n.

Not close together. Not touching. Not talking.

They’re standing on opposite sides of the stone railing, both watching Sgaeyl and Elixir circle in the sky above the estate. The dragons occasionally dip toward each other, almost teasing, spinning like twin comets in wide arcs.

But the riders stay still. Cold. Distant.

It’s strange—how something can look so empty and yet feel so full. The air between them feels heavy with everything they’re not saying.

Violet’s heart tightens.

Weeks have passed since the night everything fell apart.

Since she stormed out of Xaden’s room with a cracked voice and shattered pride.

Since they decided that maybe what they had wasn’t enough to survive the truths buried in their pasts.

And it’s only now—now—that Violet is beginning to understand.

She and Xaden were born of war. Of need. Of pain. Two broken people finding comfort in the same storm. She was drowning. So was he.

And in each other, they found breath.

But it wasn’t love. Not the kind that withstands silence. Not the kind that holds up when choice enters the picture.

Because when Xaden thought he had to choose between Violet and Y/n—he made the noble one. The protective one.

Not the romantic one.

Violet closes her eyes briefly, the ache spreading through her ribs.

And when she opens them again, she sees how Y/n carefully turns her body away, preparing to leave. Her curls sway softly as she walks past Xaden without a word, without a glance.

She doesn’t look back.

Neither does he.

And that—that practiced avoidance, that complete refusal to reach across the distance—is how Violet knows: they’re hurting.

But they’re not over.

They’re trying to be.

Violet exhales and whispers to no one, “Why won’t one of you just say something?”

But they don’t. Of course they don’t.

Because they’ve been conditioned to hold secrets tighter than hearts. Because pain has always been easier than vulnerability. Because if they admit they still feel it, then they’ll have to face the wreckage between them.

And Violet? She’s done being the wrecking ball.

She looks down at her hands and realizes she’s not angry anymore. Not even jealous.

Just… free.

A little lonelier. A little sadder.

But free.

She finally closes the book and stands, the shadows long across the floor now.

And as she walks away, she doesn’t look back either.

VIOLET & RHIANNON Riorson Estate – Back garden terrace, early evening

The sun’s beginning to set behind the jagged peaks that border the edge of the estate, staining the sky in shades of blood-orange and lilac. Violet sits on the low stone wall that rings the garden, her arms loosely wrapped around her knees, a blanket draped over her shoulders.

Rhiannon appears beside her a moment later, quietly handing her a warm mug. “Tea,” she says gently. “Not poison. I promise.”

Violet gives her a faint smile and accepts it. “Thanks.”

For a few long minutes, neither of them speak. They just watch the cluster of cadets in the courtyard—Sloane and Y/n sparring with their blades while Imogen watches and calls out feedback. Quinn sits on the fountain ledge, tossing grapes into her mouth and laughing every time she misses.

Xaden is leaning against the far stone pillar, arms crossed, face unreadable—but Violet can feel him.

He’s not watching the match. He’s watching her.

Y/n.

And she won’t so much as glance in his direction.

“You ever just realize something,” Violet finally murmurs, “and it’s so obvious you feel stupid for not seeing it before?”

Rhiannon takes a slow sip from her own mug. “All the time. Especially when it comes to people.”

Violet turns toward her, voice soft. “I think… I think Xaden and I were never meant to last.”

Rhiannon doesn’t say anything, doesn’t interrupt with comfort or pity. Just waits.

Violet takes a breath. “I thought what we had was love. But it was really just… survival. We were thrown into the worst parts of ourselves and clung to each other because no one else could understand. But now that things are slowing down, and the quiet is here—” She shakes her head. “We have nothing to say.”

Rhiannon’s eyes soften. “That’s still a kind of love, Vi. Just not the forever kind.”

“I don’t think he ever really let go of her,” Violet adds, glancing toward Y/n. “And she hasn’t said a word to him since that night in her room. She doesn’t even look at him.”

Rhiannon nods slowly. “Now that you mention it, she always stays with Sloane. Or Aaric. Or Imogen. Quinn. Anyone but him.”

Violet hums in agreement. “It’s like… she’s here, in his home, walking the same halls, breathing the same air—and it’s killing him.”

They both look toward Xaden. He hasn’t moved. His jaw is tight, his eyes dark, locked on the girl he once thought he lost—and who now refuses to acknowledge he ever existed.

Violet’s voice breaks through the silence. “He looks like he’s unraveling.”

“Because he is,” Rhiannon says gently. “They both are.”

Violet swallows hard. “Then why won’t she just talk to him?”

“Maybe because she did,” Rhiannon answers. “And it still wasn’t enough.”

Violet closes her eyes. The weight of it all is crushing—what was, what could’ve been, and what never will be.

“She’s not trying to win him back,” she whispers.

“No,” Rhiannon agrees. “She’s trying to survive losing him.”

Violet looks at her friend, blinking through the sting in her eyes. “Is it weird that I want them to be okay? Even if it means I wasn’t?”

“No,” Rhiannon says, resting her head on Violet’s shoulder. “It just means you still love him… in a way that’s letting go.”

And Violet—sitting beneath the bleeding sky, watching two people break their own hearts by staying apart—knows it’s true.

VIOLET Riorson Estate – Gardens, early morning

The mist hasn’t lifted yet, and dew still clings to the grass as Violet walks slowly through the garden paths. The estate is mostly asleep—except for the few early risers who find comfort in solitude.

She spots her sitting on the stone bench near the old fountain. Alone. Silent. Wrapped in one of those shawls she always wears when it’s cold out. Y/n Belvie.

Violet approaches slowly.

Y/n senses her, of course. Her posture stiffens, but she doesn’t move.

“Mind if I sit?” Violet asks gently.

Y/n glances at her and nods once. “Not at all”

Violet sits beside her, folding her hands in her lap. There’s a long silence between them. Not tense. Just… full.

Then, softly, Violet says, “Why haven’t you made a move?”

Y/n turns her head slightly, eyes narrowing. “On who?”

“You know who.”

Y/n exhales through her nose, a tired smile tugging at her lips. “Because he needs time. To heal. From everything with you. From… all of it.”

Violet studies her. “You really think whatever he had with me was something he needs to heal from?”

Y/n shrugs. “He loved you. Maybe not like—” She stops herself.

“Not like he loves you,” Violet finishes for her.

Y/n doesn’t respond. But her silence says it all.

Violet smiles—soft, sad. “Whatever Xaden and I had… it won’t ever hold a candle to what you two had. Or still have.”

Y/n blinks at her, taken aback.

“I spent months trying to understand him,” Violet continues. “I studied his past. His tells. His pain. And everything—everything—pointed back to you. He built you a ballroom, Y/n. He asked for your freedom when he could’ve asked for anything else. That’s not something you get over.”

Y/n’s lips part slightly. Her eyes shimmer.

“I think… deep down, I always knew Xaden and I were a moment. Intense, real—but fleeting. You? You’re the home he never got to keep.”

Y/n looks away, swallowing hard.

“I’m not saying jump him,” Violet adds with a wry smile. “Just… don’t stay away because of me. I’m not in the picture anymore. I’m figuring myself out now. Without him.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then Y/n turns to her, lips trembling just slightly, and asks, “Why are you telling me this?”

Violet shrugs. “Because I care about him. And I think he’s only ever really belonged with one person. And she’s sitting right next to me, pretending she doesn’t still love him.”

Y/n lets out a shaky breath, her gaze drifting toward the balcony above, where Xaden’s silhouette passes briefly, clearly pacing.

She smiles softly. “I’ll give your advice some thought.”

Violet pats her shoulder before standing. “Don’t take too long. Some things are worth running toward.”

"And Violet?"

She turns around to see Y/n staring at her, all her hard edges softened.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry you got caught in the middle"

Violet smiles softly and says, "And I'm sorry if I ever hurt you"

Both girls smile at each other softly, holding space for each other in the still of night.

As Violet walks away, Y/n stays rooted to the bench, the fog curling gently around her. Her eyes never leave the balcony.

Not this time.

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Author's note: I was supposed to post yesterday and I am so sorry. I am doing double intership this summer and they are killing me! Being a business student is no joke. I said today, "no excuses, girlie, you have to get back on schedule". I have more than half of my Garrick x Reader fic edited, and I am very excited to post it but I want to finish this one first. ENJOY!

[brokenengene]

✩ ‧ ₊ hard thoughts: 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

wc: 706 ✩ ‧₊ smut { 18+ mdni} — ot7 hard thoughts ‧ ₊ ✩ strong language, sexual content, lingerie kink, body worship— ✩ m.list!

kate's note: first time writing head cannons! please let me know if you enjoyed!

✩ ‧ ₊ heeseung | teddy

Heeseung would be obsessed with you in a one-piece teddy. It's sexy, mature, and he loves how the lace clings to your body like a second skin. He always chooses dark colors for you. deep blue, purples, and of course, black. He's obsessed with how the straps wrap around your waist, highlighting every angle and curve. Especially if you wear it underneath a satin robe, so he can untie you like a present. He'd finger you first, letting you messily come undone

.✩ ‧ ₊ jay | corset

The way your tits sit in a tight corset top is enough to drive him insane. He loves the structure, how it keeps your back straight and waist cinched. He can't help but keep his eyes locked on your tits as they spill over the top. He'll want you to ride him in only that, hands resting on his shoulders, letting you think you're in control. Only to flip you onto your back so he can pin your wrists above your head, watching your tits bounce over the edge of the corset with every single one of his thrusts.

✩ ‧ ₊ jake | satin slip

Jake is in love with the feeling of cool satin against his fingertips. He'd buy you a mix of colors, ranging from dark black to soft pinks. He loves the way the straps slide down your shoulders when you ride him. Your hard nipples peek through the delicate fabric as it loosely covers your chest. He's obsessed with how the fabric catches the dim light. His fingertips skimmed the edge cut at the top of your thigh. The open back design lets him watch the curve of your spine as he fucks you from behind. That's just a bonus.

✩ ‧ ₊ sunghoon | garter belt

A full garter set is this man's weakness. It's mature, sexy, and timeless. He could fuck you in the same black garter set every single night and never get tired of it. He'll brush his fingertips across the straps as he leans between your legs. Letting his tongue trace along the elegant lace wrapped around your hips and thighs. He spreads you out like a dessert he wants to savor every single bite of. His hot tongue would take its time exploring between your folds until you're soaking the sheets beneath you.

✩ ‧ ₊ sunoo | babydoll

A pink or white babydoll set is Sunoo's favorite. Especially if the flowy fabric is cut just high enough to give him a glance at your matching panties underneath. He'd love it when the sheer top is loose enough to just let your tits rest naturally. The chiffon is soft, feminine, and he's obsessed. He wouldn't be able to keep his hands off your ass and thighs as he takes his time with the foreplay. His soft hands trace every inch of your skin before he pulls your panties down to fuck you ever so gently.

✩ ‧ ₊ jungwon | matching set

Jungwon prefers you in something delicate. Nothing extreme, a plain set of lace bras and panties will do. He's a simple guy, buying you feminine pinks, pastel blues, rich lavenders. He prefers you to be relaxed and comfortable. He loves how the set accentuates your natural figure, his lips brushing the laced edge of your bra before reaching behind you to unclasp it with ease. His tongue teasing along the lace before dragging your panties down your thighs with his teeth. His tongue drags through your slick before replacing it with the swollen tip of his length.

✩ ‧ ₊ ni-ki | oversized shirt

Ni-ki's heart picks up when he sees you come around the corner wearing only his plain white shirt. The hem resting dangerously high on your thighs, the shirt thin enough to reveal that you don't have on a bra underneath. He can't hold back as he pulls you into his lap on the couch, hands sliding beneath the hem to map your thighs and ass. Your collarbone is sharply visible as the edge of his shirt falls down your shoulder. His lips crash against yours, fingers tracing higher and higher up your thighs. He sighs against your lips, body already aching for more.

© brokenengene